How The Maul Got His Stripes
by MayetraWolfking
Summary: How Darth Maul got his famous red and black tattoos.


Title: How the Maul Got His Stripes  
  
Authors: Mayetra and Hedda  
  
Website:   
  
Disclaimer: We wished we owned them. Yes we do. We wished we owned them. How about you? But we don't own them. We're so blue!   
  
Special Warnings: Mention of Drug/Alcohol Use, Mention of Adult Themes  
  
Beta: Gypsy  
  
Cast: Darth Maul  
  
Timeline: AU- Pre-TPM   
  
Authors' Note: This is really about a PG-13 to very light R story but we went with a R rating to be on the safe side.  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Summary: How Darth Maul got his famous red and black tattoos.  
  
It had been a rough night if the aching of my body and the pounding in my head was any indication. I am almost terrified to open my eyes for fear that I will find my arm trapped beneath something or someone so horrible that I will have to gnaw it off to escape. My mouth tastes like a Krayt Dragon has used it as a bathroom. My head feels stuffy and it is obvious that I have indulged too much in some sort of illicit substance.  
  
As I crack my eyes open, I am relieved to find myself surrounded only by familiar objects and there are no intruders anywhere to be seen. This is the limit of my visual inspection because the world tilts on its axis and a wave of nausea threatens to overwhelm me. I quickly close my eyes and try to remember what exactly it was that I had done the previous evening.  
  
A meeting with my master comes into focus clearly enough, but that had been late in the afternoon. Come to think of it, it may have been the catalyst that led to my current state of discomfort. My master was particularly miffed with a certain species known as the Neimoidians and took out his frustrations on me in a very grueling training session. That is if you can call being repeatedly zapped by a flurry of purple lightening a training session. I suppose it can be a good way to hone one's anger in preparation for rising up and striking down one's master at a future date. But I digress.  
  
After, crawling through the 'secret' entrance to my master's 'secret' room - really, it's not like everyone in the Senate is oblivious to it. They just happen to think it's used for 'secret' liaisons with ladies from a rather upscale brothel, but that is another story altogether. I seem to remember spending a fair amount of time trying to get my limbs to cease their twitching. It was then that I recall a rather curious looking creature asking me if I was trying a new dance craze or in serious need of medical attention. I would have filleted him with my lightsabre, but my arms could do little more than flop around like dying fish deprived of water. I should have asked the annoying little creature its name so I could exact revenge at a later time, but my stunning intellect had been reduced to a level that would have qualified me for a padded room, where I could happily spend the rest of my days smearing pudding on the walls.  
  
Dance craze… That seems to be sparking a memory of some kind… or maybe it is a nightmare. Yes, now that I focus I seem to remember a room full of creatures, flashing lights, and a din of noise that was either a Hutt mating call or music. Dancing? Sith Lords do not dance; therefore, it is an impossibility that I should have partaken in some barbaric, pre-mating ritual with a crowd of complete strangers. Of course, there is the possibility that I might have had a wee bit to drink, and in that case, dancing may not have been completely out of the question.  
  
The thought that I had sullied my pristine temple with some noxious concoction that might double for coolant among the less-reputable smugglers is not very comforting, even if it does explain the dancing. I search the foggy recess of my memory for what it was exactly that I had drunk. I am not comforted by the memories that come floating back to me. Glasses, lots of glasses with different colored liquids in them and I seemed to have tried them all.   
  
Come to think of it, I did not spend my entire evening alone. The first creature that comes to mind is a humanoid with dark hair that stuck out in tuffs. He was a rather annoying and kept trying to get me to try some sort of stick. Thankfully, I seemed to have been content with the plethora of alcoholic beverages that were paraded before me by the infuriatingly chipper barkeep. Some people take happiness to the extreme and should be thrown in the Pit of Carkoon posthaste.  
  
I groan hoarsely as new recollection comes to the forefront of my mind. I seemed to have passed a fair amount of time in a place with a stage where half-drunk creatures paraded around in the buff. An even more terrifying thought is that I may have participated in this debauchery. I cannot remove the image of cheering males stuffing credit chips into a pouch dangling from one of my thighs. Even more frightening is the knowledge that at least one of those individuals resembled a Jedi Knight that is often in trouble with the Jedi Council - Jinn-Qui or something of that nature.  
  
By the power of the Sith! I seem to remember leaving with this particular Knight. I cannot remember much about where we went but the name 'Joe' keeps rolling around in my mind. It seems that we went to visit 'Joe' at his establishment. I can't remember exactly what sort of service this 'Joe' provided and I am not exactly sure I want to remember.  
  
My woes at my behavior the previous evening are pushed aside by a more pressing matter - my bladder. It is full and if I do not wish to lie in my own filth, I need to take care of it immediately. It is a long and arduous crawl to the fresher as my body is wracked with pain. I have heard that hangovers hurt but this is ridiculous. My head is spinning so horribly that I dare not open my eyes. My horns are throbbing something dreadful, which is never a good indication for one of my race.  
  
Relief. I had never thought a bladder could hold so much liquid. As a matter of fact, I don't ever recall having urinated a rainbow before but that is the least of my worries. I have noticed something rather disturbing about my flesh and I think I have a clue as to why my body aches so horribly. I can only hope that this is some sort of juvenile prank and it will be taken care of by a quick run through the fresher.  
  
I am doomed! The marks are not only permanent but cover my entire body. In a flash, I remember exactly what services 'Joe' offered. I despair at what my master will think when he sees the tattoos. I cannot fathom what I will tell him and then, like a stroke of lightening, it hits me - honing my anger. 'Yes, my master, I purposefully did this to myself. Yes, my master, it was all about the pain and honing my rage.' I astonish myself at my brilliance.   
  
Oh, the cleverness of me!  
  
The End 


End file.
